


looks great on you, looks even better on the floor

by skree



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, RageHappy, jesus mary and joseph was this a monster to write, joelay - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1779055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skree/pseuds/skree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray dresses up for a dare and plots the demise of the ones that orchestrated the (Lollipop Chainsaw-flavored) madness- that is, until he catches the attention of someone he wouldn’t expect to be into cheerleaders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	looks great on you, looks even better on the floor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amari/gifts).



> For Amari, who hopefully forgot about this like I planned she would so that when it finally came to light, it'd totally annihilate her.
> 
> Hope you like it, lovely.

One of the things Ray was quick to learn about his job is that when you make a promise – those caught on film, in particular – no one lets you forget it. After all, when your job is to entertain not only the Internet and its masses, but also the idiots you spend time entertaining _with_ , promises are rarely forgotten. Especially the ones that doom you into circumstances that are either potentially lethal, hysterically funny to everyone but you, or involve women’s clothing.

The days that the Achievement Hunter office witnessed Ray make bets under high emotional stakes usually involved all of the above. Thankfully, such circumstances were rare.

Unfortunately, when they happened, they involved gratuitous swearing and circumstances Ray rarely expected to have to carry through with.

Of course, Ray had strategically forgotten about the bet in question. Michael and Gavin, on the other hand, were a different story.

In the heat of the moment, and quite likely influenced by a particularly irritating brand of Gavin’s antics alongside a lack of sleep that night from a late-running stream, Ray had sworn he’d strut around in a Lollipop Chainsaw cheerleading uniform if he saw one more ‘wasted!” on his screen before murdering the offending Achievement Hunter during their GTA runthrough one morning. He hadn’t expected to actually lose the bet, but he _really_ hadn’t expected a visit from Michael and Gavin one wickedly orchestrated afternoon, months and months later.

The afternoon of the officewarming party Burnie had decided to throw after, at long last, the arrival and formal move-in of the cast and crew at Stage 5.

Ray cursed himself for not seeing the looks Michael and Gavin had inevitably exchanged during that Monday morning meeting, and swore unabashedly at the two of them the entire way to the office that evening after they’d locked him in his apartment and refused to let him come until he was suited up like the cheerleader he was born to be, clad in red and black and white complemented nicely with exasperation deeper than the Marianas Trench. He prided himself on keeping his promises, but maintaining this was a potent breed of heinous.

And most of all, he cursed whoever came up with the idea to make it a fucking _costume party_.

So here they were. Ray stood at the front door of the office, exhausted from the scuffle in his apartment and again in the parking lot, flanked by a beaming Team Nice Dynamite as they waited for someone to unlock the door. Lindsay was the one to appear in the doorway to let them in, beaming when she saw Ray in all his cheerleading glory. She fist-bumped him, moving aside to let he and his escorts (dressed as Daisy and Princess Peach, though their only evidence was in wigs and tiaras – no dresses, Ray noted with a scowl) inside.

Part of the deal was that Ray would take it in stride, after all.

Gavin’s grip on his forearm was as strong as steel, and he swore he heard Michael giggling as they pushed him through the door.

So with a tight smile, he obliged them.

The responses from inside didn’t come as much of a surprise. What started as a few catcalls from Barbara and Meg led to what felt like half the company turning in their chairs or leaning to see from where they stood to see what the commotion was about – and Ray took the laughter and thunderous applause with a grin. 

The reactions were definitely interesting on an individual level. Griffon, who was sitting closest to the door, turned and volunteered a chainsaw which sent a look of panic across Geoff’s face. Meg looked on with pride, beaming at the handiwork whose creation she’d evidently been a part of, Gavin informed him on the way over. Miles and Barbara shrieked from several dozen feet away.

And there, leaning heavily against the doorframe, dressed in a suit with his characteristic slouch, was Joel.

For whatever reason, despite the fact they’d never really had a heart-to-heart, much less exchanged reasons to offer glances of greeting or solidarity or _whatever_ this was, Ray met Joel’s eyes when he saw them land on him; eyes that lifted with surprise from the face of whoever he’d been talking to, which was to be expected, of course, given the – a pause for the right word – _circumstances_ of his shot at semi-serious crossdressing. Ray interrupted his consideration of mentioned circumstances by dropping his hand to his side, fidgeting with the edge of his skirt.

But Joel’s eyes were quick to follow. In fact, they went straight down his form, lingering briefly on the hem he’d gripped between his fingers.

And realization hit Ray as hard as the white-hot sensation pooling quickly in his groin, because being under that gaze went straight to his dick. Joel picked that moment to meet his glance once more, and Ray cursed himself a thousand times over for how hard he swallowed. He must have looked pretty caught in the headlights, because he could’ve sworn he watched Joel’s lips quirk in faint amusement.

Well, this wasn’t good.

Ray had to keep himself from verbally thanking Gavin when he pulled him off to the side to show Meg the fruit of her efforts. It would’ve been awkwardly obvious if he’d stayed much longer, because as Joel had no doubt discovered, the damn skirt didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Suddenly, though, it was no longer a damper on his pride.

He put his energy into flitting about from conversation to conversation for a good portion of the evening, tending to gravitate toward wherever the laughter boomed the loudest. But as the night went on, it became painfully clear to Ray that he was hovering in what was undeniably Joel’s vicinity as much as he could manage without direct interaction.

He’d never considered himself to be hungry for attention until he moved his hips a little more while he walked. He figured it was his fascination with the older man that carried him around like he was performing, flashing about like he had something to achieve from all of it. But if he was going to play, he played to win.

And he cursed out loud when he realized, with his eyes on the black and red and white that sat against the flesh of his reflection when he excused himself to the bathroom that night, that his eyes evidently weren’t the only thing of Joel’s that he wanted on him. He’d expected the draft in the building to be his top-priority concern, but the outfit had a peculiar sense of power to it. It commanded attention, sure, but the more Ray noticed a certain person’s gaze – and corrected glances, once Ray turned to catch him – the more he wanted to use it to his advantage.

Funny how circumstances have a way of spinning themselves into something that presents opportunity at the drop of a hat, he thought to himself as the door swung shut behind him. Take it or leave it, right?

The remnants of the Rooster Teeth group had gathered together in one of the larger spaces, semi-furnished with a few decks of cards and several bottles of booze. Ray opted to watch from the sidelines, and Joel hung around the other edge of the room, watching the group with some amount of interest from where he stood alongside a few others. At some point, however, the interest began to wane, as Ray looked up from the action to see Joel slip around the corner to the kitchen.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Ray left the group not five minutes later.

When he reached the kitchen and rounded the corner, Joel had a bottle in his hand and a cup in the other, glancing up when Ray appeared in the doorway. He could see him a little better under the low-hanging lights, raising an eyebrow when his eyes landed on the gaunt theatrical makeup beneath his eyes, giving him an artificial pallor that practically glowed beneath the fluorescents.

“So, who are you supposed to be dressed as?” Ray asked, entering the room and crossing his arms. “A vampire seems a little… mass-produced for you.”

“Does it really?” Joel laughed at that, turning around and leaving the cup where it sat on the countertop. He fished a tie from his suit jacket, revealing black satin complete with a jagged red arrow angrily pointing toward the floor. “Dow Jones Industrial Average. You were close.” He frowned as he drew hinged false fangs from his pocket, eyeing the exaggerated canines before slipping them back in his coat. “Actually, one could argue you’re absolutely right.”

Ray could’ve rolled his eyes back in his skull at how painfully suiting the choice was. Typical, typical Joel Heyman. He might as well have called himself his own Twitter feed. “Social commentary,” he said with a chuckle of his own. “Why am I not surprised you went all-out?”

Joel grinned. “Technically, this is economic commentary. The make-up was Kara’s idea.” 

“You look good,” Ray blurted out shortly after, very nearly kicking himself for saying it out loud once it had left his lips. He’d be lying to himself if he said Joel _didn’t_ look good, he rationalized, and fuck, if looking at him up close didn’t give him an excellent view of how good ‘good’ was.

“Thanks. You’re right, it’s not your average nightcrawler.” He turned back to the counter, retrieving his cup with a smile of gratitude sent toward the younger man. “I think yours takes the cake by popular vote, though. If nothing else, it’s certainly daring.”

The tiniest hesitation before the last word was the catalyst for the smile that lay in waiting to blossom into a grin across Ray’s face. Jackpot.

“I’d pretend to be surprised that you noticed if I hadn’t watched it happen.”

Whatever the older man had been planning to say left him in a quick exhalation, and if Ray didn’t know any better, he’d say he watched him falter. Joel pressed his lips together, smiling like a jewel thief.

“Alright, alright, you got me. Could you blame a guy?” He set his cup down from where it had been hovering in his hand, not moving very far from where it had started. Instead, he crossed his arms, sending Ray a mildly guilty look after tugging a hand through his hair and indulging a momentary glance at the pale skin of his waist. He knew he’d been caught, but it wasn’t clear yet whether or not he cared.

“Especially since what started as admiring from afar became increasingly not-so-far over the course of the evening.”

So he’d noticed, too. Ray felt his ears flush, but he tried – _hoped_ , if this were honesty hour – to play it off like he’d intended to.

But then again, Joel was honest, so he could at least try to match it.

“I’m flattered you think I have an agenda,” Ray offered finally with a wolfish grin, “but I was mostly in it to brag I’d caught your eye.”

“Mostly?” Joel lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. “Didn’t think it would give you such high thrills for,” a pause to look at his watch and shoot a glance back at Ray knowingly, “going on two hours.”

Ray opened his mouth to say something that probably would’ve come out as a shitty excuse, but quickly decided against it when he caught the beginning of a sneer on Joel’s lips.

“So here’s the problem with being in your twenties,” Joel began, pushing himself off the counter and crossing the kitchen toward Ray. “You take so much time trying to cowherd something into happening that when the something turns and looks you straight in the face, you freeze.” He stopped a step and a half away from Ray, who had backed himself against the kitchen island in the process, and simply smiled. “It’s cute. The lack of subtlety, that is.”

Ray decided in the breath he took for solidarity within that moment that he’d table his apparent issues with needing to prove himself for later. For now, he opted to close the gap between them, pull Joel forward, and, before he could do any more hesitating, pressed his lips to Joel’s own with bruising fervor. He smiled around the intake of breath the older man took, and hung on for dear life.

As it turned out (and as Ray quickly learned), kissing Joel was nothing like kissing anyone he’d ever been with. He’d mostly locked lips with soft, feminine smiles before, lips that tasted like sugar and whispered affection and ended with shared breaths and laughter and... commitment. Naturally, given who it was that was kissing him back this didn’t have any of it, but Jesus, was it alluring all on its own.

Joel was taller than him, naturally, and didn’t have to grip him tight to keep him close. He smelled of cologne and faintly of theatre makeup, tasted of something definitively masculine – decidedly not alcohol, Ray was thrilled to discover, despite whatever he’d poured into his cup – and he couldn’t tell if the way he kissed was experienced or overconfident, but the tongue that slid against his lower lip knew what it was doing. Joel leaned into it almost immediately, pushing Ray back gently against the counter before the younger broke the kiss with a smile.

“Something about a lack of subtlety,” Ray parroted, straightening his skirt for effect. “I like to think it works for me.”

Joel’s eyes followed the movement of his fingers, tilting his head slightly to get a better view. “I’ll give you a pass because you look so good in that skirt. God _damn_ , kid.”

Ray stuck an accusatory finger in his chest. “I’m 24. Get on my level, cradle robber.”

Joel snorted before pulling him in to kiss him again, but once voices began to echo down the hall toward where they stood, Ray hauled him through the nearest door and into a dark hall toward the offices instead.

Though Joel was the one walking him backward past locked office doors, Ray towed him through the carpeted hallway, letting the older man guide them. He’d occasionally pepper his jaw with kisses, stopping to pull Joel close with a fistful of fabric or being pulled close himself by a hand on the exposed skin of his lower back, and he was mildly surprised Joel had any coherent sense of direction. But nevertheless, when Ray grabbed him by his tie and slid a hand against his waistline, the older picked a destination.

He took them both through a door on the right, and it took Ray a good minute to realize where they’d ended up. He’d purposely tried to avoid it until now, actually and by the looks of things as his eyes adjusted to the dark to reveal a handful of chairs and the company logo high on the ceiling, he’d avoided the new podcast set in the new office well enough to not even realize it was so close by.

Being in the room had always made Ray feel like he was under a microscope, and maybe even a little intimidated, even when the cameras weren’t rolling; hell, with all the glittering lenses and burning lights pointed at you, with viewers at home getting close-ups of every angle (not to mention every time you fucked up), it was hard to feel anything but small. Literally, microscopic. So when he’d found himself in front of all those cameras, or any great number of eyes, he’d done his best to do something particularly distracting to take his mind off the unease. Most of the time, his humor cut it.

But when it didn’t, he had to resort to doing something extreme (and, in hindsight, usually pretty fucking ridiculous), like wearing neon green spandex in front of several thousand people, or evidently wearing a cheerleading uniform in front of the entire damn company.

Then again, he mused, as Joel’s hand brushed against his thigh teasingly where fabric ended and skin began, maybe those promises had their silver linings.

It was the set of hands on his hips that brought him back, though, guiding him as he walked backward from where the set’s carpet began over to the middle of the dark set. Joel’s hands were warm on his skin, strong where they rested against his hipbones; they didn’t grip him tight, and though his fingers weren’t unsure, they sat in waiting. _The unexpected gentleman,_ Ray mused to himself, before he pulled them both onto the couch with a grin.

 Feeling all of Joel was admittedly just like Ray expected, but at the same nothing at all like what he’d imagined – he was all sharp lines and solid flesh and warm beyond belief, intoxicatingly enthusiastic. He held him down on the couch like he was experiencing something he’d never seen before, and he wanted to lose himself in it, in him, kissing him until he got used to all the flavors of the outside world. It didn’t take long before he was left with a taste on his lips that had to be Joel, only _Joel_ and before he knew it, he was moaning that name against the lips of its owner, rocking his hips against the older man’s and shivering all over.

It felt good to take it slow instead of leapfrogging over the foreplay, and Joel turned out to be one of the most terrifyingly patient people Ray had ever found himself with. But with his arms laced around Ray’s bare waist and fingers splayed across his ribs, kisses relaxed to the point of being endearingly lazy while he lay still as a board, he decided he could definitely get used to it. He let Joel suck dark marks into his neck, nip red ones into the flesh atop his collarbone, and if there had been time to lose track of, they spent it in good company.

“I could get used to this,” Joel breathed finally, lifting his head to glance at Ray who sat straddling his waist. He moved his hands to his sides, shifting beneath him until his cock was in line with Ray’s own. “God, are you an eyeful.”

The younger feigned an offended gasp. “Is that all I’m good for? Just a set of legs?”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Joel coaxed with a smirk. “You’ve got a nice ass, too.”

Ray figured he looked convincingly unimpressed when he shifted his hips and sent Joel tumbling to the floor, and he would’ve landed hard on his back and hopefully learned his lesson if he hadn’t grabbed Ray’s wrist and taken him with him.

But Joel didn’t look a bit fazed by the impact when his shoulders hit the floor with a thump; no, in fact, he looked absolutely _elated_ , breathy laughter making its way into Ray’s mouth as fingers snaked their way up into the younger’s hair. His hips arched with the movement, lifting the two of them off the floor, and the gasp that rolled off Ray’s lips when Joel’s tongue swiped at his own didn’t go unnoticed a bit.

“You okay down there, old school?” the younger managed to pant when they broke the kiss, glancing at him cautiously to make sure he didn’t exact revenge. And on cue, Joel’s lips quirked at the corner as his free hand languorously slid down Ray’s side, making sure to move slowly enough to watch Ray’s eyes flutter at the touch when he murmured a brief ‘just peachy’ against his skin. A smile stretched across his lips as Ray’s hips rocked forward just enough to offer the older an idea of what he wanted, eyes opening beneath thick lashes to reveal pupils blown wide in the dark.

He probably didn’t need to, his point was painfully clear beneath his skirt and pressed against Joel’s own erection from where he sat perched on his waist, but for good measure, he rutted against Joel’s cock again and watched him the whole time. Watched his breath catch and his eyes meet his own, watched Joel think to himself _“yeah, I’ll take that dare”_ while taking one last lingering look at the fabric already riding up Ray’s hips, revealing a glimpse of the briefs underneath. 

He’d hardly blinked before Joel’s hands were sliding around his hips, maneuvering Ray off his waist with impressive force so that the younger landed flat on the floor beneath him, spread out on his stomach while his head spun from the movement. He didn’t stop himself from groaning when his forearms smacked against the solid floor beneath the carpet, lifting himself up at his knees to raise himself off the–

Oh, _fuck_.

He didn’t catch the whimper that bubbled up in his throat in time when his ass connected with a very warm set of hips that hovered just above him. Joel’s erection slid against the cleft of his ass through the fabric of the damn skirt, and god, if Ray’s resolve were any weaker, he risked coming on the spot at the gorgeous noise Joel made low in his throat at the contact. He’d admit he capitulated in absolutes given certain circumstances, but the enthusiasm under the gaze of a certain Joel Heyman was not one he expected to get him so eager that he nearly surprised even himself.

But Ray imagined he probably boasted a pretty hilarious juxtaposition in that moment, sprawled on the floor wide-eyed and panting, with his ass half-clad in a cheerleading costume that would make any other company in the world raise an eyebrow. The bookish glasses that had somehow remained on his nose, despite a few smudges and a displacement or two, the flush across his cheeks that the darkness kissed away with chiaroscuro, and how desperately he wanted his co-worker to fuck him into the floor, a burning desire that cascaded from a single shared look at the beginning of the night – it all fit together in a bizarre set of opposites that felt so good he could almost see himself getting _used_ to them.

“Fuck me, Joel, _please_ ,” Ray groaned, frantic for contact as he moved beneath him against the carpet. Joel’s hand slid up his hip and flipped the skirt’s fabric out of the way, pausing in his efforts and taking in a quick breath. “Not here,” he whispered through clenched teeth, “but for the record, oh my _god_ , do I want to.” He ran two fingers beneath the waistband of Ray’s briefs, pulling it up by the elastic only to let it snap back down against his skin.

“Can’t defile the precious podcast set, right?” Ray ground his ass back up against Joel’s hips, smiling as the older man’s right hand hit the floor beside his shoulder. “You _sure_ you have your priorities in order?”

“Are _you_ sure you want this?” Joel asked from where he lingered above Ray’s neck, running a hand down his side. “Because if not, you can say so, I won’t—”

“I wanted it a few hours ago, Joel. C’mon,” Ray goaded, gyrating his hips against Joel’s own behind him, “how often do you hear about someone that _wants_ to get fucked by the stock market?”

He grinned when he heard a snort of laughter from above him, muttering something about how _I’ll ignore that because that fucking skirt has been calling my name since you waltzed through the fucking door_ before shifting above him, the noise of a zipper hitting Ray’s ears alongside a rustle of fabric. His hand moved from where it sat at his hips to slide beneath Ray’s waist, fingers brushing feather-light against his erection and drawing a throaty moan from the younger’s lips as they wrapped around him, palming warm flesh through the fabric and offering a few languid strokes that had Ray’s back arching up into his own. Joel’s lips were at the nape of his neck in no time, sending surges of sensation straight down his spine before Ray heard the smile in his voice when he spoke again.

“I’m not going to fuck you in the office,” Joel murmured against Ray’s skin, moving so his torso was pressed flush against Ray’s back, the younger sprawled out on the floor at the foot of the couch. “But since you seem so enthusiastic, I don’t plan on wasting an opportunity to enjoy ourselves.”

“You were the one staring,” Ray fired back, need growing increasingly evident in his breathlessness as he pressed back against Joel’s hips, ass up and chest flat against the floor. He moved his hips back and forth against Joel’s dick, biting his lip as Joel drew in a quick breath above him, resistance fraying like a rope.

“And _you_ wore the skirt. I don’t think you’re in any position to mouth off, by the way.” His hands gripped at Ray’s hipbones, and the younger barely stifled a gasp as Joel’s hips glided against Ray’s own, the solid curve of his cock rubbing against his ass in one diabolically slow movement. “Better start moving, sweetheart,” he purred, drinking up the way Ray whimpered at the contact and lifted his ass to meet it. “I want to see you fuck the floor.”

And Ray complied so quick he could’ve given himself whiplash.

He rutted against the carpet the moment his brain kicked into gear, processing the words the man above him had breathed against his neck, and his cock immediately thanked him for the friction. Ray couldn’t have stopped the grateful moan that fell from his lips if he’d _tried_ on the first jerk of his hips, fingers pressing into the carpet as he buried his face in his forearms, biting down another heightened groan as he thrust forward again. He nearly lost it, though, when Joel met his movement with a surge forward of his own, erection pressed hard against his ass through the fabric of Ray’s underwear.

“God, you look so good like this, making sounds like _this_ ,” Joel breathed against his neck, nipping at the skin he found beneath Ray’s jaw to draw a gasp that proved his point, kissing further up his neck with each thrust forward against his skin. Ray lifted his chin to allow him better access as Joel’s grip flexed on his wrists, rocking desperately against the press of the floor while he felt Joel’s cock grind against his ass, faster and faster with each enthusiastic breath that left Ray’s lips. Beyond the pleasure clouding his mind from the movements of his hips, he handed himself over to the surprisingly coherent strings of encouragement that Joel murmured in his ear, telling him how beautiful he curved and arched beneath him, against him; how he could listen to the sighs and groans and _just_ _how bad he wanted this, wanted him,_ from Ray’s lips forever. How gorgeous his name sounded – _tasted_ – on his lips.

And Ray had tried his best to stay quiet, save for moans that escaped more frequent than simply on occasion when Joel’s hips pressed him tight and close to the floor, but once the older man shuddered and groaned his name into his shoulder, long and low – the kind of sound that sounded like splintering resolve and desire seeping past grit teeth, hot enough on his skin to leave haze in his mind – he lost it into momentary oblivion, chanting Joel’s name with each jerk forward until he came so hard his head spun with a groan of absolute bliss. Joel’s fingers flew from his wrists to his hips, rolling his hips against him in a few last, quick thrusts, following him over the edge with a heightened cry muffled against Ray’s skin.

It took a minute for Ray to register the kisses Joel pressed gently to his shoulders before the warmth behind him left, returning shortly thereafter and bearing a towel he used to clean them both off. When he knelt to wipe at the carpet, however, muttering something about Gus and stains, Ray caught his chin and kissed his cheek, surprising them both with the tenderness.

Joel glanced at his watch with a start. “Party’s probably dying down, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. Want me to take you home?”

Ray thought for a moment, hoisting himself up and fixing his skirt with a twist of a smile.

“Feel like spending the night?”

\--

The following Monday, Joel got to his office door with Ray leaning on his shoulder, both still blinking away sleep blearily while Joel reached for his keys. Before he could retrieve them, however, Ray nudged him and pointed to a sticky note stuck to the closed door.

_Hope you don’t mind being the “random example” for our discussion in the meeting this morning of not fucking with the podcast set, Joel and Ray!_

Joel smirked, to Ray’s chagrin, and pointed to a second that featured different handwriting.

_Better question: did Ray’s stitches hold up?_


End file.
